His Eminence
by Txcutee
Summary: Cato is the 74th Hunger Games victor. He came out broken and haunted, and now, he must live his life alone and carefully. On his victory, there is one girl who shows him no homage; she treats him like any other human being. How will he react to this? Katniss is never reaped.
1. Chapter 1

**This has been sitting on my laptop for about a year now, not real sure on how good it actually is. I've done a lot of editing and revising to this, trying to get it to how I want. Review and let me know what all of you lovely readers out there think.**

**Enjoy! :)**

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**Chapter 1**

I lay sprawled atop the green velvet couch. I was on the train, going to the poorest district of them all - District 12. The Victor Tour was definitely a waste of my time; no one really wanted to cheer for me. Sometimes I'd think that the Capitol was so annoying for making the victors do this just because the districts rebelled. All my life I had been raised to believe that the Capitol was good and perfect, and the Games were the solution to the country's problems. It wasn't till after my Games that I realized how wrong that was. Or how everything I'd known—or thought I'd known—was just another one of their domineering ways to keep everyone in Panem in line.

I spent my nights screaming and laying wide awake in bed afterward because of the stupid nightmares that my games gave me. Not only that, but President Snow had tried to get me to do the infamous "appointments". Tried is the key word. I didn't go through with it. I didn't have any close friends because I was always training, and the last of my family had died a few months before. Snow was so frustrated that he didn't have anyone to use against me; his pale face was red, his puffy lips pushed into a thin white line. Before I left his office, he hissed that he would get me one time or another, that I couldn't be alone forever. I had rolled my eyes. I was going to always be alone. No one wanted to be friends with a monster, and I was never going to get attached to someone, much less love them. He would never have anything to use against me. He can't own me. They most definitely can't have my body. Ever.

One day, this country is going to be ripped from his hands and into another's. It will be given to a person who deserves to hold power; a person who won't force the Hunger Games upon us; one who won't sell the victor's bodies to eccentric, slutty creeps.

Back at home, I spent all my time at the gym, not wanting to speak to anyone, not wanting to have all those girls flirt with me, not wanting anybody to congratulate me on my winning of the games. And though I knew that none of them could know what it was like—or would ever know, since most of them were past the age limit to be eligible for the games, I sometimes couldn't control myself from lashing at them to leave me the fuck alone. The simple truth was that I was envious of them. They were never going to feel the same pain I had. They wouldn't have the nightmares, the guilt, the haunting memories that are immortalized in my brain, the hallucinations, loss of complete humanity, or the loss of the only sort-of-friend I ever had. No matter what those trainers did, they couldn't train us for the aftermath. They may have brainwashed us into thinking that that's what we wanted to do-go into the games and kill as many children as possible-but they couldn't brainwash us enough to not feel the weight of all those deaths on our shoulders, and no amount of money could buy the next best shower to wash the blood off our hands. We victors were forced to live with the compunction of everything we did in those fucking games.

The train came to a stop, but I didn't move from my spot on the couch to get off. It didn't take long for Eva, my stylist, to come on and coerce me to leave.

We got into a small car that took us to the mayor's house. The whole way I looked out the window at the coal-covered, nondescript landscape and its inhabitants. Their olive-colored flesh was covered in coal dust like it was an extra layer of skin. Their faces looked tired and hollow. Their figures were basically just skin and bones, cadaverous and emaciated. If I tried, I was sure I'd be able to count all of their ribs. This, certainly, was no District 2. Even the little kids weren't running around chasing each other like the kids back home did; instead, they stood around, doing whatever they did, looking as solemn as the adults. Of course, there were others, too. They had blonde hair and blue eyes; they were healthier looking than the others, but still not up to District 2 standards.

We stopped at a rustic house about the size of a regular home in District 2. Though this one was run-down like the rest of the buildings around the district, this one was the biggest and seemed to get more repairs than the rest. Besides the fact that weeds were growing everywhere wildly and the paint that was coming off on the siding, the house looked fine. Not District 2 victor house fine, but a nice, homey fine.

We were greeted by a man with graying blonde hair. When he bowed his head to welcome us, I could see the growing bald spot growing in his peppered hair. His figure was slouched over more that it probably should have been, but as for size, you could tell he ate more food than most in this district, though he wasn't the size of someone from my district. He was still too skinny to be normal. Maybe, though, I'm a little biased since the training center, where my life revolved around 24/7, had kids where trainers dictated and shoved every opportunity up their asses to build muscles.

We went inside, and my prep team whisked me away to "fix" me for the cameras later today. I didn't have time to look around at the decor, but I saw enough to see that it looked nicer than the outside of the house. The small bedroom we went into had cream colored walls, white lace curtains, and a double bed up against the middle of a wall with a creamy brown colored comforter. The room was nothing compared to some of the rooms I've seen, but it felt comfortable and calming to be in. Sure, it wasn't up to some peoples' standards in the richer districts (most definitely not in the Capitol), but it was beautiful in its own unique way. I know, I know, sappy, sappy Cato had become all soft and emotional since the games, but maybe now I was just realizing how fucked up my shitty life was before. The citizens may face other dangers, but at least they had a house not made of that prison gray cement.

I could have been overthinking my life, only seeing the bad, but that only good thing I achieved was the liberating knowledge that was purposefully warped, twisted, and hidden from my brainwashed self: The Capitol was a pain in the ass, the polar opposite of good.

The speech I made later in front of the district was pretty boring, considering no one smiled and only gave a soft clap when I was done. Through the whole thing, I was looking at all the faces of the crowd, seeing how everyone seemed so grown up and how they lived in a world of pessimists. While scanning, my eyes found one girl with dark, long hair that was pulled back into a braid that fell down to her waist and who had stormy gray eyes. She scowled the entire time, not necessarily at me, but at everything. She looked utterly bored with everything going on around her. She had her arm around a girl with blonde hair that was pulled into two braids. She had blue eyes and looked nothing like the girl standing next to her.

When I was done, I was quickly whisked off to the town square for the dinner and a small party. When they served the food, you could tell they didn't have a lot to work off of, so there wasn't much there and it was a little bland. But I guess it's not like they made food for a living like District 11.

Afterward, when some music was played, only a handful of people started to dance, but most talked in small groups. I stood off to the side, observing the people around me. It wasn't hard to see who hung out with whom. There seemed like the District had segregated itself between blonds and brunettes, skinny and not so skinny, pale and olive-skinned. There weren't a lot of brunettes there, but the ones who were there weren't standing next to blondes. Except one.

My eyes swept over all the people but stopped short when I saw a young brunette standing in the corner next to a pale, blonde-haired girl, who somewhat resembled the mayor. The two girls weren't talking, but neither seemed to mind. The brunette's imperturbable face still held the same scowl she had on earlier; the blonde had on a small smile. The brunette wasn't what most people would call beautiful—especially standing next to the blonde beside her, but she definitely stood out from the others in the room. Her body language showed a fighter. Her figure showed she had it better it off than some of the others. The way her shoulder sagged showed the pressure and hardship of life weighing her down. These characteristics were a combination of the new and old Cato. The old Cato would never back down, always postured to fight at any given moment. The new Cato resembles that man, but I was no longer eager to pursue a pointless fight for the hell of it. Now, I could feel the heaviness of life like a thumb whacking an ant; they are hit time and time again, but that wasn't always their dying blow.

I stood off to the side by myself, my eyes flicking over to the two girls frequently. At the other side of the room, I saw small groups of girls giggling and stealing lustful glances at me. They probably didn't care-well, actually, I know that they didn't care-that I was a victor. They probably just want me in their beds for a rush of their lifetime from a rough-tough, good-looking guy.

I pushed those thoughts aside and ignored them.

At one part during the night, the blonde left the brunette's side and went over to the mayor. The brunette didn't leave her spot; she just played with a loose string on her blue dress that fell to about an inch above her knees. Her gray eyes were glazed over, lost in her own little world.

I took the chance of her being alone and went over to her. With her being zoned out, she didn't notice me standing there, so I cleared my throat.

She looked up at me, unfazed of my presence. She blinked a few times, her eyes narrowed. She stared at me as if she was trying to decipher if I was really next to her, trying to talk to her.

"What do you want?" she asked icily, not even to bothering to act nice like everyone else here had. She, apparently, didn't care that I was the newest victor of the Hunger Games. Though I didn't know her, nor did she know me, she looked as if she absolutely hated me. Her abhorrence was inscrutable. It sent me back to the real world where everyone hated me, where I still hated myself.

I held up my hands up in surrender, feeling slightly crestfallen. "You were all by yourself and so was I. Just thought we could talk." The excuse was lame under any circumstance, but it was better that telling her I had absolutely no idea what coerced me over to this side of the room, next to her.

"What makes you think I wanted to have any company or even talk to you?" She turned her head away, her braid flipping over onto her shoulder, and crosses her arms.

"I didn't. I just-"

Her head flew back around, her face red. "See, that's the thing! You don't think. You just assume. You think that everyone will like you or pretend to like you. That people will do whatever you want; act a certain way around you. Well, I'm not like them, so take the hint and leave me alone." Her animosity began to send chills down my spine. What is with this girl?

"Chill out."

"Chill out?! You- never mind. I'll be the bigger person and just walk away." With that she gave me one final death glare and stalked away, going off to a tall man about my age with dark hair, a glare also present on his face that was directed in my direction.

Geez, people. What did I do?

Then, it hit me. I was the one who murdered the District 12 tributes. Not just one, but both of them.

I hoped that all the districts weren't going to be like this.

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**Please Review**

**~Txcutee**


	2. Chapter 2

**HAPPY SPRING BREAK!**

**Sorry for that time lapse from when I first posted this. For anyone who reads my other stories, hopefully I'll find the time to write something up for them. Life can be so hectic. It seems as if it gets worse with every passing year. **

**In this story I decided to make the Victor Tour where the victor spends a few days in each district. Just saying, so you don't get confused as to why he's still in District 12. I don't really plan on making this a very long story, but I hope you stick with me to the end.**

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**Chapter 2**

My feet carried me along the side of the street on their own accord. The sun was just beginning to peek up from above the trees surrounding the entire district. Light shadows danced across the snow covered ground almost hauntingly as branches moved slightly with the relatively heavy wind. A few inches of snow had accumulated on top of what had been there the previous night, so my boots sunk deep into the wet moisture, sufficiently soaking through the bottom of my pants that draped over my boots. It was annoying, but it was a welcome distraction to my onerous thoughts. Nightmares from my sleep, or lack thereof, were still crowding my mind like someone had blinded me and clogged my ears so all I saw was the blood spattering out across the landscape as my sword sliced flesh, all I heard was the sound of their scream piercing the air much like my weapon did to their life.

I made sure to keep my visage confined to an expression somewhere between a scowl and a neutral look. There was no need to bother others with all that besieged my mind. Not that most would probably adventure toward a murderer who was responsible for not only their own citizens but possibly over half the tributes "lucky" enough to have their names drawn. The irony of how I felt of the games now was almost funny if it weren't for the reason I changed my whole outlook on The Hunger Games.

Skeptical glances were thrown my way as men in grimy, gray suits with equipment tiredly thrown over their hunched shoulders passed me. Their eyes appeared almost as dead as I felt. There were a few groups talking quietly amongst themselves, chuckling every once in a while, but most walking in silence as they traveled sluggishly toward a wooden elevator shaft. Thank God I wasn't born into this life of coal mining. 

Upon thinking that, I ruminated on the fact that my lungs felt trapped underneath the constant stream of coal dust floating in the cold air and I had only been there for less than twenty-four hours. How most of these people breathed normally on a day-to-day basis was unimaginable to me. I tried to imagine what it might have been like to live here and decided that I should just stick to my district; however, I wished I had chosen a different path than the one that mistakenly led me here. Then again, I probably still would've been thrusted into training, but hopefully, if I could start my life over, I wouldn't be chosen to volunteer. On second thought, however, if that were to happen—highly unlikely, but if—I would most likely still be living blinded by ignorance about the oppressive Capitol.

As my mind contemplates and argues over how my life could or should have been like, I didn't even realize I had drifted outside the lines of houses. There was a different vibe about the place—maybe a meadow—from the rest of the district. Turning away from the run-down houses and gaunt figures, it was almost like it didn't exist. The strip of land, untouched by the doleful scenery, on which I stood, might have been beautiful in a different season, but now everything was dormant under the winter chill.

My eyes swept over the snow-blanketed landscape before settling on the tall columns of trees standing strong with white scoops mounted on their branches just outside the district limit. Suddenly, the snow was gone along with the lame excuse of a fence. There was yellowing green grass poking up in tiny bundles. The tree's branches were the healthy green you saw in the summer casting shadows on the ground below. Footsteps sounded loudly in the unnatural silence of nature. Their feet crunched against the dirt as if each grain was a city being demolished by the heaviness of their footfalls. My fist clenched tight enough to draw blood where my fingernails intercepted with my palm. Dread filled my stomach like poison, but I refused to go down without a fight from the one who was growing closer.

My eyes were closed. Not with fear, but with concentration. I was losing my head; I was delusional. The scene playing before me wasn't real, yet my heart clobbered in my chest.

"Damn fucking Capitol," I muttered under my breath that swooped out in a gust of white puffs from my drying mouth.

"That's probably the only thing we have in common," she said from beside me. My eyes snapped open, the white of the snow momentarily blinding my now focusing eyes. Her raven hair was pulled back into the same braid from the last time I saw her. A few pieces that weren't long enough to fit in with the others blew across her tired and cold face. Two scrawny arms, wrapped in what was probably the heaviest sweater she owned but looked as if it did almost nothing to keep away the winter bite, were enveloped around her tiny torso. "But why is it that I abhor the same thing as one of the Capitol's _finest_ lapdogs?" There was nothing friendly about his question. This was no innocent curiosity; her voice was rancorous and sarcastic. It was almost like she was mocking me.

My eyebrows sunk lower on my face as my top lip began to curl upwards in a menacing snarl. The two lines of hair rising up on her forehead in mock-question were what stopped all the vile thoughts forming inside of me. I would not give her the satisfaction.

The anger alight in her gray eyes like raging wild fires was refreshing almost. No one had treated him this way since before his games. It gave him this false-sense of normalcy.

"Why are you here? Did you come to yell at me again, fire girl?" The sound of my voice was far more bitter and sarcastic than was intended. Then again, how was I supposed to ask her? Smile like there was nothing wrong with her talking to me? Let her outburst last night go like I didn't care about it at all? How was it that the trash from District 12 was the only one to tell it like it was?

"Fire girl?"

I shrugged my shoulders like it was obvious. Surely someone has commented on the fierce intensity living within her, pressing against her olive-colored skin like it could explode at any given moment. It wasn't like I was the only one who saw the dark anger consumed inside of her pretty little head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her scowl made its appearance once again on her face as her accusing voice tried to cover up her obvious confusion.

A smirk hinted on the edges of my lips. "What do you think it means?" My arrogance was beginning to seep out of my pores as I teased her. "With an attitude like yours, surely you have a brain sittin' up there."

She shot him a half-hearted glare before keeping her eyes trained on the snowy blanket beneath their feet. The toe of her boot pushed around the mush into small piles as her foot carved a small hole. "Why are you out here? Did you get lost?" She sounded a lot gentler, like, she was too preoccupied to listen to what either of them was saying.

"I believe I asked that question first."

Her head snapped up with confusion. "What?"

"You heard me." Mirth was seeping into my voice. I haven't had this much fun since my games.

Scoffing, "You're being childish." Pause. "Besides," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I asked a question before you asked that." Refusing to meet his eyes, she pretended to pick at her fingernail. "Why are you eluding my questions?"

"Why are you eluding mine?"

"You did it first."

"Who's being childish now?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, finally looking up, "Still you. Now answer my damn questions."

"So bossy. If you must know, I was taking a walk. What's your excuse?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You skipped over my first question."

"I answered one; now it's your turn."

"That isn't fair. You have to answer my first question first." Her hands now rested on her hips.

"Says who? Is there a rule book?" She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. "I think we have a different edition of this supposed rule book because in mine it also wouldn't be fair for me to answer two questions before you even answer one."

"It would be your own fault. You're the one who skipped your first question."

"Why are you here?"

She sighed. "Maybe it's because I live here." I gave her dirty look. "Your turn."

Looking away, I rubbed a numb hand over my smooth chin. I should be used to the pain that come with the procedure that stole away all of my facial hair, but there was always a sting when I touched it. I sighed, trying to figure out the best way to tell her without really telling her. The Capitol was always watching. Best not take my chances, even in the lowest of the low of the whole country.

"Things aren't always as they seem," I start, roaming over the dark shadows and the snow-powdered barked trees of the woods instead of her. "There are just—somethings that you don't see or understand until you're forced into the light." I swallowed hard. "Somethings just never leave you no matter how much you try to forget."

She was quiet, so I glanced back to see her reaction. Her eyes were studying me as she processed everything I had just said. They calculated me like she really was trying to figure me out. Too bad she'll never truly understand without being reaped.

Finally, she broke the silence and she asked, "What are the 'things'?" There was no sarcasm or anger like there was in everything else she had said to him prior to that question. She was fully intrigued by his cryptic statements.

"Things that drive you to insanity." I wasn't going to say any more on the subject. I didn't know her; she didn't know me. I wasn't the kind of person to tell my life story to a complete stranger.

My legs began taking me back within the line of rickety houses, but her voice cuts through the air

"Katniss."

I turn. "What?"

"That's my name. Not fire girl."

_Katniss._

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That night at the second night of celebrations, I found myself searching for her, for Katniss. I never meant to, but my brain had already formed a mild obsession over her. She was the only one who truly treated him normally.

When he found her, he was shockingly disappointed to find her dancing with the same boy she went to last night after he tried to talk to her. They weren't squeezed together like you find most couples, but the look on his face as he peered down at his partner, you could tell he had fallen head over heels in love with her. It was enough to make him sick. How do people do it? Why put yourself through something like that? Why torture yourself with petty feelings if you'll never act on them?

My gaze followed them for several minutes. However, the boy caught my stare and sent a glare my way. It was almost a spitting image of Katniss's. Maybe they're related. Perhaps incest happened a lot more here because of the low survival rate. Kind of gross.

When we boarded the train later that night, I could still see them dancing and the scowl that overcame his visage as he found me surveying them. Right then and there he knew what I was just figuring out for myself.

Katniss wasn't something I would forget quickly. She was the one person I swore I would never get attached to, but as I walked to my room on the train I knew it. She was violating my mind in the worst possible way. I was stupidly falling for a girl I hardly knew.

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**Sorry if there is any mistakes. I tried my best. Let me know how you felt about it in your reviews.**

**~Txcutee**


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